


it was late at night (we held on tight)

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7397392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tooru and Hajime's first time is a lot more romantic than either of them ever imagined, but then again, that's not necessarily a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it was late at night (we held on tight)

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely self-indulgent.
> 
> the title’s from the song ‘space song’ by beach house & it really embodies the mood i wanted to capture
> 
> lol enjoy <3
> 
>  
> 
> special thanks to brit for reading through this manifesto to explicit consent & communication :'-)

For as long as Hajime could remember, there were no boundaries between him and Tooru; they seemed to know each other inside out. Hajime had seen Tooru at his worst-- those horrid times with Tobio and losing before nationals; afternoon practice sessions which morphed into gruellingly painful sights of Tooru serving again and again and  _ again  _ until Hajime had forced Tooru to stop by physically tearing him away and wrapping his arms around him and promising him that he  _ was  _ enough, and that he’d always had been-- and at his best-- his smile; his laugh; the way the sun shone in his hair-- and Hajime chose both. 

In retrospect, it wasn’t a surprise that they ended up here, like this; in Tooru’s bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. Hajime trailed his fingers along the smooth expanse of Tooru’s cheek. Tooru smiled at him lazily. 

It was surreal; it was entirely domestic and Hajime felt ridiculous, for this was the same Tooru he’d caught bugs with and the same Tooru that never fails to cry at the end of _ E.T _ ., though then again, it was also the same Tooru that never failed to make him laugh and feel stupidly, utterly happy, so perhaps it wasn’t a stretch at all.

Hajime craned his neck a little, and Tooru rolled over to lay on his back. Hajime hovered above him. Tooru was gorgeous; he was pretty on the worst days in some objective manner, though with his hair sprawled on his pillow and his shirt stretched at the neck just enough to bare his sharp and jutted collarbone, Tooru was entirely other-worldly beautiful. He was far more than  _ just  _ pretty. Hajime loved him more than he ever thought was even possible. He loved how Tooru’s grins were lopsided, and how he never got tan and was eternally pale, and how moles dotted his skin like constellations. 

Hajime reached out a hand to cup the back of his neck, fingers pressing gently-- like he’d thought Tooru were asleep-- into the skin where he knew a dark beauty-mark lay. Tooru watched him, mouth open in a perfect, minuscule little  _ oh  _ shape, as though he’d inhaled a tiny breath. Hajime smiled at the sight.

“What’re you grinning at?” Tooru teased in a hushed whisper. 

“You’re pretty.” 

Hajime’s smile was audible, though he spoke as though it were a terrific secret. Hajime didn’t know why his voice was so quiet, either, but it seemed right; the moment was too fragile for their usual loud laughs and conversations.

Tooru’s smile widened an impossible fraction of an inch. He stretched out his arms and wrapped them around Hajime’s shoulders before trailing his fingertips along Hajime’s neck, reaching up to press lightly against his cheek. Tooru cupped his face and sighed happily and entirely sappily, but Hajime couldn’t bring himself to care or tease Tooru about it, not when he was this pliant and gorgeous beneath him.

“I love you,” mouthed Tooru. Hajime’s heart grew three sizes too large for his chest to contain, and so he leaned down to kiss Tooru; he hadn’t kissed him properly since he arrived at Tooru’s place--  _ my parents are away for the weekend; won’t you come over, Haj’? I’ll be lonely, otherwise; don’t be silly, Hajime, I’m always lonely without you _ \-- and that was a  _ crime  _ in Hajime’s opinion.

Tooru was beautiful in some incredibly ethereal way; in some way Hajime couldn’t quite understand and fathom. It was dark outside, and the window was open. A car drove past, and it’s headlights filled the room with bright white. Across Tooru’s body-- over his chest and his face-- white stripes contorted, and for a moment, Hajime was truly breathless at the sight. Tooru looked far younger and immensely vulnerable underneath him, and suddenly, Hajime remembered that this was  _ Tooru _ ; the same Tooru he played games with in his lawn in summer when they were eight, and the same Tooru who starred in every single wet- and day-dream he’d had ever since he was thirteen.

Hands wandered, and then, all of a sudden, all of this felt terribly  _ real _ ; Tooru’s fingers set every single one of Hajime’s nerve ablaze as they trailed delicately-- hesitantly-- down Hajime’s neck. Silently, he pulled away to tear his shirt off, and Tooru mirrored his actions. The only sounds in the room were their laboured breaths and the sound of fabric rustling. Tooru blinked up at Hajime with wide eyes and his mouth was parted as he exhaled shakily; he was nervous, too. Somehow, that calmed Hajime as he leaned down and pressed miniscule kisses to Tooru’s temple, down his cheeks, and along his neck; some were harder-- with teeth and tongue-- and some were so light it made Tooru giggle breathlessly.

Hajime’s lips trailed down further. He kissed right below Tooru’s heart-- on the smooth expanse of his ribcage; his fingers splayed over Tooru’s thundering, trembling chest-- and there was something so powerful about that, some hidden meaning Tooru was far too gone to decipher, for Hajime wasn’t one for incredibly meaningful words and declarations of  _ yes, yes-- I’ll love you forever, if you’ll let me-- I’m yours and you’re mine _ ; he was a man of action.

“Hajime,” Tooru breathed, “Hajime, I--”

Hajime lifted his head, and stared at Tooru with wide eyes; some sort of wonder, as though Tooru were a goddamn miracle. Tooru’s throat constricted, and suddenly, his words died in his throat. 

They were silent-- Hajime couldn’t think of anything to say-- and  _ isn’t this how it all started, really? _

Hajime’s palms pressed along Tooru’s sides, trailing down to rest just above the waistband of his sweatpants. Tooru titled his head back and exhaled shakily as slowly and carefully, Hajime hooked his fingers into the hem of them and pulled them down. Sitting back on his haunches, he glanced down at Tooru with a nervous glance. Tooru met his eyes and swallowed thickly, and that was all he needed to do for Hajime to understand that  _ yes, yes-- he did want this-- he wanted nothing more than to feel himself fall apart at the seams underneath Hajime’s touch _ for Hajime understood him, like that, and it was far too easy for him to comply. 

For each inch of smooth, pale skin exposed, Hajime pressed his mouth, his lips, his fingers, his entire  _ being  _ against it. Tooru’s thighs trembled underneath his touch, and he clung tighter to Hajime, his fingers warm against Hajime’s sweat-slicked shoulders; it was warm, wrapped in Tooru’s arms, after all.

“Hajime,” whispered Tooru, “Hajime, I-- I don’t want to… I don’t want to wait; please, I--”

“I know,” spoke Hajime into the inside of Tooru’s knee, right underneath the sharp and linear surgical scar there, “I know.”

Tooru hissed at the feeling of Hajime’s lips pressing against the sensitive skin. Hajime glanced up at him. Tooru merely bit his lip and blushed furiously.

“Sorry,” spoke Hajime, “Did I hurt you?”

“No-- no, I…,” replied Tooru, “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

Hajime pressed impossibly soft kisses against the dark line as Tooru exhaled a broken breath. His eyes burned, and he was sort of worried he’d begin  _ bawling  _ at Hajime’s gesture, for it was none other than Hajime who sat with him in the waiting room and it was Hajime who held his hand so tightly it hurt as the doctor uttered those cursed words--  _ you’ll need surgery, or else you might never be able to play again _ \-- and it was Hajime who promised him he’d stay and it was the very same Hajime who later lay in that tiny, horrid hospital bed with him and held him until he’d stopped crying and trembling and fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

Tooru’s grip on Hajime’s shoulder slackened, and he sniffled a little; perhaps he was crying after all. 

Hajime crawled up once more, and hovered above Tooru. He could feel Hajime’s unsteady breath fan over his face, and his rapid heartbeat rattled against his ribcage. It comforted him to feel that Hajime’s was very much the same; he was nervous, too.

“You’re-- why are you crying?” asked Hajime in a quiet voice.

Tooru sniffed.

“I don’t know,” he said, “It’s-- I-- I just--”  _ love you so much it hurts; so much it scares me. _

“Should we stop? We don’t have to--”

“No!” exclaimed Tooru, “No, no,  _ no _ \-- please. I don’t want to stop.”

Hajime exhaled shakily.

“Okay,” he said, brushing away Tooru’s tears with the pad of his thumb, “But.. I mean, if you want to-- even half-way through, you can--”

“Yes, yes,” breathed Tooru. He pulled Hajime closer once more and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Hajime’s mouth. Hajime inched closer to him, and opened his mouth. Suddenly, it felt as though they were underwater; with his eyes firmly shut, Tooru grasped tighter on Hajime and pulled him closer. Their bodies aligned, Tooru could feel Hajime’s arousal press against his. Tentatively, he rolled his hips. The sensation made Hajime groan helplessly and Tooru arch his back. They kissed a little harder, after that, with far more desperation, as though they were running out of time, or that this would be the last time they’d see each other, yet as Hajime pressed his tongue against Tooru’s, Tooru wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life like this; Hajime’s entire body weighing down on him. There was little between the two of them, and suddenly, Tooru was aware of how  _ intimate  _ they’d become. He wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t uncomfortable. He was nervous, though not because he was scared, or anything-- nothing could go catastrophically wrong, they’d down  _ some  _ things like this before-- but because this was  _ Hajime _ ; the same Hajime he’d known for years and years and the same Hajime who he loved with his entire being. 

As Hajime dug his teeth into Tooru’s lower lip, Tooru gasped for air and rolled his hips once more. His hands scrambled down Hajime’s sides before gripping Hajime’s hips. Fingers tangling in the waistband, with one hesitant glance to Hajime and a careful nod, Tooru pulled them down slowly, the pads of his fingers trailing down each sliver of tanned skin exposed. Tooru marvelled at their contrast in skin tones as Hajime reached behind him and tugged them off completely. 

They were nearly completely bare, then, and suddenly, it seemed that the air had become immensely thicker as Hajime kissed Tooru’s cheek, then bit and sucked along his neck. Tooru bared his neck and gasped helplessly. He grasped Hajime’s shoulders once more-- he needed some form of hold-- and rolled his hips upwards to meet Hajime’s hesitant thrusts. They pressed against each other, and the sensation drew out a raw and shy moan from Tooru’s throat. 

It felt natural, and easy, as though they’d been born to do this; they knew each other far too well. Hajime knew exactly where to press his mouth-- just below Tooru’s jaw-- to make Tooru shake underneath him. 

“Haj’,” he slurred as Hajime thrust towards Tooru once more, “I need--  _ please _ \-- I--”

Hajime’s mouth froze. He drew back and stared down at Tooru. 

Cupping Tooru’s cheek so gently it hurt, he spoke, “Yeah-- yeah, sure; okay, whatever you want.”

Tooru nodded hastily. Hajime leaned down to kiss him once more because  _ God _ , Tooru was gorgeous; Hajime would still adore him with his hands around his neck. Tooru’s mouth was pliant and liquid underneath his, and he was warm all over. The fingers Hajime rested against his jaw twitched as Tooru opened his mouth. 

Briefly, Hajime remembered what it was like the first time they kissed; years ago, sitting stiff on Tooru’s bed with Tooru wearing a stretched out t-shirt from their junior high volleyball club. They were nervous, and, in retrospect, it wasn’t all that, but it  _ was _ . Hajime had imagined all the different ways Tooru might kiss-- whether he’d be soft and slow or hard and pressing-- though even Hajime’s most vivid dreams did not prepare him for the way Tooru had felt. It was infinitely better than how he’d imagined it. Tooru was soft and warm and  _ his _ and as they grew older-- together-- Tooru kissed with fervour and with poise; finely tuned and controlled, though always with a tremour in his hands. 

It was no different now, either; Tooru’s hands shook as they gripped Hajime’s shoulders tightly. Hajime was lost beyond any bearing as Tooru’s fingers wandered up and down his back, dipping into each vertebrae with something close to awe.

As they broke away, Tooru chased Hajime’s mouth. Their foreheads pressed together. Hajime’s eyes were firmly shut; he was worried he’d start crying if he saw the way Tooru looked after they kissed, like that, for Tooru was infinitely gorgeous.

Hajime could feel Tooru’s shaking breaths fan over his neck and face, and he stroked the pad of his thumb against Tooru’s soft and red-hot cheeks.

“Tooru,” he whispered. It sounded like nothing he’d ever said before; vibrating and raw and seeping into the gap between Tooru’s lips, “Tooru, I--”

He couldn’t think of anything to say. He  _ wanted  _ to say everything, for Tooru  _ was  _ everything; he was maddeningly, wonderfully brilliant, and Hajime still could not believe that Tooru was his, and that someone as infinitely and complexly beautiful as Tooru would allow him-- simple, steady, good ‘ole boring Hajime-- to love him. It didn’t seem like that much of stretch-- they’d always been close; Tooru never saw any boundaries between them-- but at the same time, it was  _ everything _ . 

Hajime exhaled unsteadily and trailed the side of Tooru’s face with trembling fingers; he never stood a chance, really. Tooru had inched underneath his skin. He couldn’t imagine life without him.

“Hajime,” breathed Tooru, “Hajime, I-- I want you.”

Hajime wanted whatever Tooru would be willing to give him.

“Okay,” he replied, voice broken and raspy, “Okay.”

Hajime lifted a hand and ran his fingers through Tooru’s hair. It was mussed and fanned all over the pillow. As Hajime scratched at Tooru’s scalp, Tooru leaned into his touch. Hajime’s hands dragged down his sides-- skin smooth and warm underneath his fingertips-- and  _ God _ , Tooru was perfect; briefly, Hajime wondered what he had done in his past lives to deserve this. 

His fingers shook as they reached the waistband of Tooru’s underwear; the only remaining layer between them, aside from Hajime’s own. He was nervous, which was  _ ridiculous _ . It was nothing Hajime hadn’t seen before, and the thin fabric of Tooru’s boxers did little to hide his arousal. 

Slowly and hesitantly, Hajime’s fingers tangled in the waistband, and he pulled them down. Tooru gasped a little, and hid his face in the warm skin of Hajime’s neck. Hajime leaned back a little and pushed his underwear out of the way completely, though he pressed back against Tooru quickly; it was too embarrassing, otherwise. Tooru’s legs tangled with Hajime’s as Hajime rolled his hips forward.

It all felt very real, then; Hajime’s body caged Tooru in and pressed against him in a way he never thought could be this nerve-wracking and simultaneously grounding and warm and familiar. It felt like home. 

Hands roaming, Hajime trailed his palms down Tooru’s sides as he kissed along the musculature of Tooru’s neck. Tooru shuddered underneath his mouth  as he dragged his tongue along the tendons.

“Should I just...” Hajime spoke in a quiet voice.

Tooru licked his lips and nodded as he exhaled slowly.

“Yes,” he breathed.

Hajime swallowed thickly.

“Okay,” he replied. 

With a lingering kiss, he detangled their sweaty limbs to dig around in Tooru’s nightstand. Tossing the bottle of lube on the mattress, he clambered over Tooru once more and kissed at his shoulder whilst his hands trailed downwards. Pressing his fingers hard into Tooru’s hips, he bit dark marks that would last for days into Tooru’s pale skin; just enough to be sure that this was real and that Tooru was his, though also just enough to not ruin and stain Tooru’s perfect complexion. 

“Hajime,” whispered Tooru, “Please, I--”

Hajime didn’t reply; he merely removed his hands and sat back a little to pop open the bottle and spread it over his fingers-- far more than needed; Tooru had shown him how he liked it before-- and warmed it a little. He knew Tooru liked doing this-- he’d shown Hajime, once-- and that he’d done this sort of thing before-- he’d told Hajime that in aching breaths on the telephone when Hajime had gone away for a week and things spiralled out of control;  _ you’d fuck me so perfectly, Hajime, and I could take you so well, you know that, don’t you? _ \-- and that made it a little less nerve-wracking, though only a little, for Tooru was still underneath him, eyes hooded and trained only on Hajime. Even after all these years, Tooru still managed to make him this nervous, because  _ God _ , he loved him. He loved him more than he ever knew was even possible.

Hajime couldn’t stop himself, then; he leaned forward once more and pressed his swollen lips against Tooru’s. It was so gentle and warm it hurt, though Tooru pulled away with laboured breaths regardless. Hajime leaned his forehead against Tooru’s.

“Okay,” he hushed and  _ God _ , this seemed ridiculously repetitive, Tooru probably hated him for it; Hajime bet none of Tooru’s other partners ever acted this juvenile and the thought filled him with boiling fear, “I’m-- I’ll--”

“Yeah,” mumbled Tooru, “Jesus, Hajime; just--”

At Tooru’s impatient tone, Hajime laughed hoarsely. 

“You don’t seem nervous at all,” he muttered.

Tooru exhaled a shaking breath.

“Oh, trust me,” he mumbled, “I’m plenty nervous.”

They were silent, then; there was nothing else to say, and so much to do. 

Tooru’s eyes were open and staring right at Hajime-- hazy and half-lidden-- though they fluttered shut as Hajime moved his hand downwards, pressing against Tooru’s hole gently. 

“Hey,” mumbled Hajime as he pressed his forefinger inside of him cautiously, “Open your eyes, yeah?”

Tooru complied; slowly, and then all at once.

“Thanks,” Hajime replied. He didn’t know why he’d said that. It seemed silly, and childish, and probably nothing like what Tooru wanted to hear. Tooru’s mouth quivered into a half-smile, though, and it was worth it; Tooru’s happiness was worth everything to Hajime.

Tooru panted against Hajime’s lips as Hajime began to move. He thrust in his finger to his second knuckle, and Tooru exhaled shakily in an effort to relax. He seemed eternally determined, and furiously aroused, for his fingers clutched at Hajime’s back, digging hard into the slick muscle there, and his other hand ran through Hajime’s hair.

Ever so slightly, Hajime began to move. As he hooked his finger, Tooru licked his lips and gasped. Hajime could feel his stomach quiver as he inched back on it. 

“Hajime,” he breathed, “You can--  _ more _ .”

Hajime nodded. His gaze focused on Tooru’s eyes for any sign of the mildest discomfort-- Tooru had a horrible habit of bottling up any pain when they did things like this-- as he pushed a second slick finger inside of Tooru. It slid inside easier than he expected, though Tooru was unmoving aside from his shuddering intakes of breath. Softly, Hajime ran his thumb along his cheek, and then, they’re kissing again-- hard and deep as though Tooru wanted to memorise every crevice of Hajime’s lips and mouth-- because it really was far too easy. 

Hajime hooked his fingers once more, and Tooru could not seem to catch his breath. He arched his back as he moaned Hajime’s name breathlessly, as though he were a dying man at the altar, hoping for salvation, and Hajime was his only prayer.

In that moment, Hajime wished he could have taken a photograph of them-- mid-embrace-- for there was no telling of what could happen in the future; tomorrow, next week, in a month or in a year, Tooru could still wake-up and decide that this all was a terrible idea. He could get scouted. He could leave Hajime-- just like that-- and forget any of this ever happened;  _ let’s be friends like we used to, Haj’, yeah?  _ he would say. Hajime would probably let him. 

That’s the thing if you love someone so much it hurts; you’d let them leave if you knew it would make them happy.

Whatever would happen tomorrow, Hajime would have this moment. He’d engrain it into the back of his mind, for when he’s old and grey. He’d remember that he once held something truly beautiful. He’d remember what Tooru felt like-- how he trembled underneath his shaking fingers-- and how gorgeous he sounded. 

Tooru’s breath seemed to be an afterthought to him as Hajime closed his eyes and kissed all over Tooru’s face; underneath his eyes, against the side of his mouth, his smooth cheeks. His fingers moved easily inside of him-- stretching as much as he thought Tooru would be comfortable with-- and Tooru moved underneath him, lifting his hips and thrusting against them as though it were the most obvious thing in the whole world. 

Hajime pushed a third finger inside of him as Tooru muttered  _ more-- more, I need-- please, Haj’  _ into his ear. Trailing kisses along his neck, Hajime could feel his pulse flutter underneath his lips. It was comforting. 

“God, Tooru,” mouthed Hajime as Tooru moaned hoarsely. Hajime’s fingers slid faster; enough to make Tooru arch underneath him. He was sure Tooru could feel his aching and embarrassingly hard cock-- it felt as though he’d  never been this turned on in his whole entire life before-- grind against Tooru’s bare thigh, mimicking the thrusts of his fingers. 

Briefly, Hajime acknowledged that he could easily come from this alone, though Tooru did not seem satisfied.

“Hajime,” he whispered, “Haj’, please-- stop.”

Immediately, Hajime froze, and stared down at Tooru.

“Shit,” he hushed, steadily extracting his fingers, “Sorry-- I’m sorry, I--”

He felt immensely stupid. He knew Tooru had done this sort of thing in the past, and he was absolutely  _ positive  _ he couldn’t even begin to compare to Tooru’s previous partners. He was nervous, and sweaty, and hesitant, and just utterly  _ awkward _ , and  _ nothing  _ like Tooru would have wanted. He loved Tooru with every fibre of his being-- sure-- but love only brings you so far. Tooru wanted more; he wanted-- 

He laughed.

“You look terrified,” he said softly, running his fingers through Hajime’s hair as he mustered him fondly.

“Sorry,” Hajime began, “I’m sorry, I--”

“Don’t be,” voiced Tooru, “It’s-- I just-- I didn’t want to come. I-- I want you inside me, Hajime.”

Hajime felt all the strings inside him break. Leaning back, he pulled off his underwear-- there was no time to feel embarrassed or shy; this was  _ Tooru _ \-- and pressed his body against Tooru once more. He was warm all over, and every skin-to-skin contact sent electrical sparks down Hajime’s veins. His head felt light and his fingers tingled.

“God, I love you,” he choked before kissing Tooru once more, cupping his face with both hands. It all felt real and permanent, then; this  _ was  _ happening. It wasn’t a dream. Tooru was here-- right  _ here _ \-- and he was so beautiful it hurt to look at him.

Tooru seemed impatient, though. He pushed at Hajime’s shoulder until he pulled back. Tooru raised his hand. Between two fingers, a condom rested, and Hajime took it thankfully. Averting his eyes, he rolled it onto him and slicked himself up with some lube; probably far more than was necessary.

Languidly, Tooru spread his limbs for Hajime to settle between. He lifted a leg to press against Hajime’s hip, whilst the other remained on the mattress; his  _ not-so-good leg  _ as Tooru called it. Hajime could not stop himself from pressing his palms against them. His fingers lingered as they dusted over the scar on Tooru’s knee. 

Hajime rubbed the head of his aching and leaking cock against Tooru’s slick entrance. He paused. He glanced down at Tooru; waiting for something,  _ anything _ , that would reassure him. Tooru lifted his hands and cupped Hajime’s face, pulling him closer. 

Pressing a soft kiss against Hajime’s forehead, Tooru told him softly, “I love you; I love you, you  _ wonderful  _ man.”

In that moment, Hajime thought of nothing but Tooru, and how utterly vulnerable they were to each other. Hajime accepted his fate, and so, he pressed his fingers into Tooru’s hips and aligned himself as Tooru wrapped a hand around his biceps, massaging the muscle there and urging him closer. 

“I love you,” Tooru repeated, and that was all Hajime needed. Slowly, he pushed inside of Tooru; with as much control as he could muster, for Tooru was impossibly tight and impossible hot. 

It hurt, it burned, and it stung; they both made sounds like dying men. In retrospect, Tooru thought, he probably should have left Hajime prepare him more, though none of that mattered now, not when Hajime was this gorgeous and this close to him. Hajime’s hair was plastered against his forehead, and his skin seemed darker than it really was. Hajime’s teeth dug into his lower lip and his breathless, low groans exhaled hotly right beside Tooru’s ear.

“Tooru--” he choked as he slid fully inside of Tooru, “Tooru, babe, I--”

“Move,” said Tooru, “For God’s sake, Hajime,  _ move _ . I’ve waited five years for this, so I’m sure as  _ hell  _ not waiting now.”

Hajime’s breath hitched audibly.

“Okay,” he spoke hoarsely, “Okay, yeah; whatever you want, Tooru-- whatever you want, I--  _ fuck,  _ Tooru--”

And he began to move. Tooru felt impossibly good as he thrust shallowly and tentatively at first; he didn’t want to hurt Toru, or anything, and it required all of Hajime’s restraint and whatever composure he had left to not grasp him and  _ fuck  _ Tooru into the mattress for hours until they both shook. 

With even the slightest movement from Hajime, Tooru responded gorgeously; he arched his back, dug his nails into Hajime’s skin, moaned breathlessly. Hajime hid his head in the juncture of Tooru’s shoulder as Tooru scratched and pulled at the smooth hairs at the nape of Hajime’s neck. 

“God, you’re so--” Hajime began, but it wasn’t enough. Tooru choked on a moan as Hajime became more comfortable. He thrusted at a steady rhythm and he must have done  _ something  _ right, for ever so often, Tooru would tremble and knock his head back and  _ shout _ as though he were a porn star.

“Oh,  _ God, _ ” moaned Tooru, “Hajime-- yes,  _ yes _ \--”

A guttural moan was drawn from deep inside Hajime’s throat as he thrust deeply into Tooru, and simply rolled his hips. 

“I love you,” breathed Hajime into the warm skin of Tooru’s shoulder before inching upwards to speak into the gap between Tooru’s lips, “I love you-- I love you--  _ I love you _ \--”

Tooru exhaled a broken sob and arched his back. His nails dug into Hajime’s shoulders, and he clung so tightly onto Hajime as though he were afraid Hajime would disappear into thin air if he didn’t keep holding on.

His breath hitched as Hajime rolled his hips once more-- as deep as he could-- and inched a hand between their bodies to wrap his fingers around Tooru’s leaking cock, stroking it slowly and tightly; just the way he knew Tooru liked it. Tooru moaned helplessly through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” exhaled Tooru. He tilted his head back, and his eyes fluttered shut as he chanted breathlessly, “Yes--  _ yes _ \--”

It wasn’t perfect. It was hesitant and slow and new, but it was everything Hajime ever wanted; it was good. It was better than anything they’d ever done, Hajime realised, and judging by how much Tooru trembled underneath him and how his abdomen tightened, Tooru thought so, too. 

Tooru’s nails dug into Hajime’s skin as he thrust into him. Hajime could feel his own breath come a little faster, and his head felt light. Heat pooled inside of his stomach-- a familiar sensation-- and he gripped Tooru harder, grinding into him as Tooru grabbed the hand wrapped around him-- lacing their fingers together-- and forced Hajime to move faster.

“Hajime,” he breathed, “Hajime, I-- feels so  _ good _ ,  _ fuck--  _ I love it-- I love--”

A laboured moan stopped him from saying whatever he wanted to tell Hajime, for Hajime thrust just  _ perfectly  _ into him; hard and deep but slowly, as though he loved the way Tooru felt and wanted to savour it forever.

(He did.)

“God,” choked Hajime, “You’re perfect; I love you-- I love you--  _ I love you _ \--”

With Hajime’s name on his mouth, Tooru came. His toes curled and his entire body shook and arched underneath Hajime, and it was a gorgeous sight; he came harder than Hajime had ever seen. Flecks of white burst between their chests and stomachs, and some even caught on Tooru’s chin. Most definitely, it was the single hottest thing Hajime had ever seen.

“Tooru,” he groaned, “Tooru-- Tooru, I--”

Tooru opened his eyes, ground down on Hajime, and with one final, faltering thrust, Hajime came. Fingers scrambling against Tooru’s jutting bones, he shook all over.

Hajime collapsed on Tooru soon after; his muscles simply gave out from the strain, and he was sure he blacked out for a moment. He panted helplessly, and felt as though he’d just run a marathon. Hajime only came back to senses as Tooru pushed at the arms that somehow managed to wrap themselves around Tooru’s upper-body. 

“Shit, sorry,” Hajime muttered as he detangled their limbs. Tooru exhaled shakily and flopped back on the mattress; he was completely sated, too. Turning onto his side, Tooru watched Hajime tie off the condom and throw it into the bin before settling beside Tooru once more, smiling at him and reaching forward to grasp his hand, his other palm resting against Tooru’s smooth and warm shoulder. 

Hajime smiled at Tooru. In the distance, he could see clothes strewn on the floor, and if it weren’t for those, he’d probably convince himself this was all a vivid dream.

“Are you okay?” Hajime asked as his fingers drew some nonsense pattern on Tooru’s shoulder blade, tracing the places he knew Tooru had moles; they always looked like constellations, to Hajime.

Tooru nodded slowly. His eyes slid shut. Scooting closer, he smiled at Hajime and exhaled steadily.

“You were so romantic, Hajime,” he whispered, “Where’s the surly Hajime I’ve grown to know and love?”

“I swear to God, Tooru, I  _ will  _ kick you out of the bed.”

He didn’t move, though; he merely kissed Tooru’s temple. The dim lights of the street made Tooru look otherworldly, Hajime thought.

“God,” Hajime sighed, “What will I do with you?”

Tooru hummed happily.

“Love me, feed me, never leave me,” he replied. 

Hajime smiled against the soft skin of Tooru’s cheek.

“Sure,” he said, and it was so easy.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u liked it 
> 
>  
> 
> hmu on my tumblr @reminscees


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